Black Poetry : 360 degreez (what goez around...)

theDynasty1979

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Apr 24, 2003
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somewhere in Ohio.
Occupation
doin' me- full time.
i was there ridin the benches
while you was scroungin in trenches
diggin up dirty ones for fun
proclaiming them the chosen one
clean up woman so i was for so long
stayed down and dirty while you did me so wrong
i squeezed tears out these pretty blues
an instrument you used
discarded moved on walked away
still waited for you to come back one day

till i changed i grew i learned to love myself
and not give away all my faith to someone else
i found a good man a good life and much peace
and here you come again trying to give me your grief
listen chief: i'm sorry that you're goin through so much
and i know i could take the pain away with one touch
but you chose her; you gave her pieces you never showed me
you chose to love her; now accept what came to be
we started off as lovers; we don't know how to be friends
treated me like the waterboy; so forgive, but i dont understand
what is it that you're expecting? i can't symapthize right now
all i can do is gloat, because you see it all now
how any and everything that you ever do
will some how and some way come back to get you
all the pain all the lies all the sleepless nights
none of this would have happened if you'd treated me right.

so when you come to me with hopeless expressions
and usher-type confessions
i still feel the connection; but i'm keeping some space
i hate to see the treachery of her etched on your face
but what am i to do? hold you? comfort you? clean up her mistake?
baby boy baby boy... it's entirely too late.
moonlight flooding his face as he knocks desperately on my door
i loved you once... but i just can't do it anymore.

--peacebeme MsDy
(copywrite pending/all rights reserved to aisiah l williams)

(good luck in your life...
if you ever find some one
to love you half as much as me
i hope youre smart enough to make her
your wife.)
 
well its kind of late as im writing this... i just got out of bed to answer the door and it was him... so there may have been some rambling... but yall gotta forgive a sistah... sometimes poetry is a lot like therapy- you start unleashing and no telling what all you dig up.
peacebeme--MsDy :D
 

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